


By the Skin and the Teeth (End of the Road)

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7707079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing older, Sereda has to make one last trip to try to find the cure.  Even though it's painful, Zevran has to stay behind with their two children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Long Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the final day of Zevran x Warden week!

“I will always love you,” Sereda says firmly, holding Jelah and Amias in her arms tightly.  “No matter what happens.”

“What’s going to happen?” Amias asks quietly, looking at her with wide eyes that remind her of his father’s.  

“I have to go away.  Far, far away,” Sereda says.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

She doesn’t have to look up at Zevran to see the unsaid  _ I might not come back _ .  

“We can come with you!” Jelah exclaims as she turns to kneel on Sereda’s thigh, never content to be held closely for long.  “Me and Amias are good travellers!” 

Sereda laughs, stroking her golden hair.  “Yes, you are.  But this is something Mama has to do alone.”

“You’re stupid!” Jelah yells, pushing her way out of her arms.  “We’re a family!  We’re supposed to be together!”

Sereda blinks hard, pressing her lips together as she watches Jelah run down the hall.  

“I will talk to her,” Zevran says, following her.

Amias is quiet for a while, slowly pulling himself closer and closer to Sereda.  Before she knows it, he’s clinging around her neck like he used to when he was a baby.

“Mama, I don’t want you to go,” Amias says softly.  “Please stay.”

“I wish I could,” Sereda says, stroking his hair.  “But I have to go.”

If she doesn’t, Sereda will end up dying from the darkspawn taint.  She might still die- the cure might kill her- but she has to try to live.  For her family.

“Because of what we were travelling for?” Amias asks.

“You are so smart.  Yes, because of what Papa and I were researching when we were travelling together,” Sereda says.  

“We can help!” Amias says.

“I want you and your sister to be safe,” Sereda says, “but I can take care of myself.”

“You should take Papa with you!  Me and Jelah can stay, uh, with Uncle Alistair!  Or with the Wardens!” Amias suggests.  “So you’re not alone!”

She and Zevran had considered asking some of their trusted friends to watch their children so they could both go on the final trip to find the cure.  The risk of leaving both of their children orphans was too great.  It’s an unacceptable risk.  

“I’m bringing Shale, Sigrun, Velanna, Anders, and Nathaniel along,” Sereda says.  Those are all people that Amias knows and trusts.  “I won’t be alone.”

“I still don’t want you to go away,” Amias protests.  

“This is for the best,” Sereda murmurs into his hair, trying not to cry.  “I wouldn’t leave if I had any other choice.”

-

Zevran’s heart is heavy as he cuts her hair short.  Sereda had let it grow out long after they killed the last of the Antivan Crows because he likes to braid it.  But now that she’s going off to fight again, she doesn’t want to have to maintain it, especially without him to play with it.

“Promise you’ll still love me when I’m not full of darkspawn corruption,” Sereda tries to joke.

“I will always love you,” Zevran says firmly.  “I love you more each day, and nothing can change that.”  

They’re quiet as Zevran finishes cutting her hair.  He runs his fingers through it when he’s done, remembering vividly how it had felt when they had first made love.  That feels like a whole lifetime ago, and they were both such different people, but their love for each other remains steady.  

Zevran settles in her lap when her hair is perfect.  He strokes the familiar lines of her face, so scared that this will be their last night like this.  She’s leaving tomorrow.  

“I want to ask you to promise me something.  Something that I know you won’t even want to consider,” Sereda says softly.  

Zevran swallows around the lump in his throat and nods.  He knows what this is going to be about.

“I know that it will be so hard for you if I… don’t come back.  When my mother died, my father never talked about her again, and all I had were my blurry memories and whispers I overheard,” Sereda says.  “Please, tell Jelah and Amias about who I am.  Who I really am, not who the stories say.”

Zevran kisses her cheek.  “I will tell them all about.your strength and bravery.”

Sereda laughs a little.  “And about how terrified I was, and how it took you several tries to convince me that people don’t actually fall into the sky.  The bad parts and the embarrassing parts as well.”

“Of course,” Zevran says.  “They should know how fully wonderful their mother is.  But you are going to return, my dear Sereda.  They will get to know you because you will be here.”  

He wishes that he believed that wholeheartedly.  If there’s a way, he knows Sereda will find it, but there might not be a way.  While he believes that Sereda can do the almost impossible, he knows that she’s a dwarven woman and not actually capable of doing the impossible.  

“I know,” Sereda says.  “Because I have you and Jelah and Amias to return to.  What’s some darkspawn singing compared to that?” 

“Nothing.  Nothing at all,” Zevran says, holding her close.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Sereda says, voice catching in her throat.  

Zevran doesn’t have to look to see the tears welling up in her eyes; he knows that she doesn’t have to look to see his matching tear stained face.  

-

This isn’t the first time that Zevran and Sereda have been separated, not even the first time since they’ve had children.  With Jelah and Amias, a lot of things changed, and one of them was how they communicated while apart.  

Obviously, letters are still the only way to communicate with each other, but the notion of sending strangers to their home, where their children live, was clearly not going to work.  At least, it became clear after a very pregnant Sereda threatened to gut a messenger from her brother.  Zevran had only barely managed to talk her down.  He understands her fears- as sure as he is that the Crows are all dead, his past could still catch up with them- so they’ve figured out various ways to get messages to each other over the years.

This time, Sereda sends her letters to Alistair.  From there he (or some advisor, Zevran would assume) attaches the letters to Valda, the mabari that Sereda saved at Ostagar.  The blightedly smart creature then makes the trip in a couple days, easily losing any pursuers as well as giving Zevran and their children a friendly face to look for.  

It’s a slightly paranoid system, but it works.

“I’m going to see him first!” Jelah squeals excitedly.  

“You’ll get bored first,” Amias points out.  “So I’ll see Valda first.”

Zevran laughs and pulls both of them to their feet.  It’s been weeks since Sereda left and they’re still competing over who sees Valda first.  “We have things to do other than wait for Valda to come.  If you’re going to read Mama’s letters, you have to keep practicing how to read.”

Amias’ eyes light up.  “Can we keep reading that book of elven tales that Auntie Velanna wrote?”

“Nooooo,” Jelah complains.  “I wanna read dwarf stories!  They’re all about fighting darkspawn underground!”

“I don’t want to read about dwarves or Orzammar,” Amias complains, crossing his arms in the way that always means that he’s in a mood.

“But they’re so cool!” Jelah says, swinging her arm around like she’s fighting a horde of invisible darkspawn.  “They live  _ underground _ like Mama did.”

“I don’t want to read old dwarf stories!” Amias yells.

“There are books for both of you to read,” Zevran says, trying to calm Amias down.  It’s harder than calming Jelah down, mostly because Amias so rarely gets mad.  “You can both read your own stories.”

“I’m gonna read about the beserkers!” Jelah says in a singsong voice.  “They fight fight fight the darkspawn underground!”

“Shut up!” Amias yells, shoving Jelah.

There’s stunned silence on the part of all of them as Jelah falls to the ground.  

“Amias!  Go to your room,” Zevran says firmly after a moment.  

“Fine,” Amias says, stomping into the house.

“Are you okay?” Zevran asks as he kneels beside Jelah.  

“Don’t punish him too much,” Jelah says, sniffing.  “Amias just misses Mama a lot.  He thinks she’s not coming back.”

“What?” Zevran asks.

“I know.  Sometimes Amias is so smart he’s really stupid,” Jelah says.  “I always tell him that of course Mama is coming back, because duh.” 

Zevran leans forward to press his lips against her forehead, horrified that he hadn’t heard about any of this before now.  “Are you hurt?”

“Nah, Amias isn’t that strong.  I probably wouldn’t’ve fallen down except I was so surprised!” Jelah says.  

“I’m going to go talk to your brother now,” Zevran says.   

“Okay!” Jelah chirps.  “I’m gonna pretend to kill darkspawn and wait for Valda!”

Zevran smiles and kisses her forehead again before getting up and going inside.  He looks in the room the twins share, but there’s no one in there.  The sight of Amias’ well made bed makes Zevran frown; it’s not like Amias to be disobedient.  

But then he sees that the door to the room that he shares with Sereda is open and small sobs are coming from down the hall.  With a heavy heart, Zevran shuffles down the hall to open the door wider.

There’s a small, shaking body buried under the blankets on Sereda’s side of the bed.  It had been such a novel thing, when they had a permanent bed that they could choose sides on.  A real change 

Without saying anything, Zevran comes around to his side of the bed.  He crawls under the covers and scoots closer so he can wrap an arm around his crying son.  

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Amias says eventually, still sobbing a little.  “I didn’t mean to push Jelah.  I mean, I did.  But I didn’t.”

“I know,” Zevran soothes.  “Jelah said that you think that Mama is gone forever.”

Amias sniffs.  “There are no  _ old _ Grey Wardens in the stories.  They all go fight darkspawn with the dwarves in Orzammar before disappearing.  What if Mama was lying and has gone to Orzammar?” 

Zevran laughs softly.  “My sweet child, you have never seen your mother and her brother, but I promise you, if she was about to die, she would much rather stay here and be with us in her final days than Orzammar with Bhelen.”

“What if she doesn’t have a choice?” Amias mumbles.  

“I will not lie to you.  Your mother may not return.  But she is also fighting with everything she has to return to us.  I have learned over the many, many years that I have know her that it is wise to count on your mother to win, especially when the odds are stacked against her,” Zevran says.  

Amias nods a little, still shaking, and another small body climbs on top of Zevran.  

“I got bored by myself,” Jelah explains as she squeezes her way between Zevran and Amias to hug her brother.  

“I’m sorry, Jelah,” Amias says.  

“Whatever,” Jelah says.  “Just no more saying that Mama isn’t coming back.  Because she is because she’s  _ Mama _ .  They’ve written songs about what she and Papa have done!  They’re both heroes!”

“Okay,” Amias says quietly.

“Good,” Jelah says.  “Papa, will you tell us about how you and Mama met again?” 

Zevran laughs.  “I think you like hearing about how Mama whacked me on the head.”

“I  _ always _ like hearing about Mama fight,” Jelah corrects.  

“Fine, fine!  It was a bright, sunny day on a long, winding road…”

When he’s done with the story, both of his children have settled down, only to be excited when Valda jumps on top of the bed, letters from Sereda attached to his collar.

-

The last letter from Sereda comes on a much happier day.  Bright rays from the sun shine down on them as Zevran dances with his children.  There’s no music except the crashing of the waves against the shore, but given that both Jelah and Amias have inherited Sereda’s dancing skills, it hardly matters.

But unlike Sereda, the twins at least like to try to dance, and Zevran is always happy to indulge them.  He twirls them around and around, heedless of the amount of times they step on his toes.  

Every once in a while, he looks up at the porch swing, expecting to see Sereda sitting and watching them with a delighted smile on her face, but, of course, she isn’t there.  He refocuses his attention on his children.  

There’s a loud bark from the front of the house and suddenly the three of them are in a race.  It’s a race that Zevran easily wins, with his much longer legs and natural quickness.  

“Hey, old friend,” Zevran says as he detaches the letters and gives Valda a pat on the head.  “How are you?”

Valda barks mournfully, clearly still slightly miffed at being left behind.

“Ah, but you are doing a very important job that Sereda could trust to no other!” Zevran soothes.

Valda barks and licks his cheek.

“Why do you always talk to him like he can understand you?” Jelah asks as she crashes into Zevran.  

“Because I’m fairly certain that he can,” Zevran says, righting them both.  “The Fereldens are incorrect about a great many things, but their mabari are certainly something special.”

Valda barks to that, giving both Jelah and the out of breath Amias a big lick on the cheek before padding inside to where his water bowl is.  He’s so much bigger than the twins; it’d be alarming if Zevran had any concern that Valda might try to hurt them.  But Valda seems to recognize them as Sereda’s children, and thus his to protect.  Zevran has no doubt that if necessary, Valda would fight to the end for them.  

Zevran hands both of them their letters, and they tear off to their room.  He walks around the house to sit out back on the swing.  It’s Sereda’s favorite place because they can watch the ocean stretch on forever.  All these years, and she still finds the ocean an unbelievably incredible thing.  

_ My dear Zevran, _

_ Perhaps I now understand why some of our companions were irked with us during the Blight.  Velanna and Sigrun have begun sharing a tent, and now we are all getting much less sleep.  While I’m happy for them, they also remind me that you, love, are so very, very far away. _

From there, Sereda proceeds to describe some of the things that she misses doing with him in vivid detail.  He skips over it, saving it for later when the children are asleep.  It’s an impressively long section of the letter, and he turns the page to find where it ends.  

_ I’m afraid that that will have to satisfy you for some time.  The further west we go, the harder it is to find someone willing to take my letters back east, and I’m not even certain that this letter will reach you.  Nobody here has ever heard of Ferelden and they don’t seem keen to explore.   _

_ Regardless, I will keep writing in the hopes that one day my journals will reach you one way or another.  There is much beauty and splendor here, and I wish I could share it with you in the children.  We have been attacked by several more bands of raiders, but we dispatched them with little problem, and Anders and Velanna were able to patch up any injuries we sustained.   _

_ No matter what happens, know that Amias, Jelah, and you are the greatest loves of my life.  Perhaps everyone who feels a great love feels this way, but I cannot imagine that anyone has ever loved so deeply or been loved so wholly as we love each other.  From our first fumblings in my tent on the road in Ferelden to fighting the Crows in Antiva to taking you as my husband on some barge in Orlais to settling in Ferelden permanently, I have loved every moment of being with you. _

_ Our miraculous, unlikely thrice over children have the best of both of us inside of them.  I know that there must be troubles at home, even though you have not mentioned any, but I also know that you handle them so adeptly.  You were a natural father from the moment I told you I was pregnant.  They are so lucky to have you, Zevran, as lucky as I have been to have you as my lover and then husband. _

_ Love forever, _

_ Your dearest Sereda _

It reads so much like a final goodbye that Zevran wipes at his eyes hurriedly, not wanting to stain the strange paper the letter is written on.  If these are to be the last words she sends him, Zevran doesn’t want to ruin them.  

A torn scrap of paper falls to the ground, and Zevran picks it up, smoothing it out carefully.  Something in the frantic, hurried script, tells him that it’s bad news, and he hopes to be wrong.

_ Zevran, _

_ I wasn’t sure at first, but I am now.  I am experiencing my Calling.  The darkspawn song is just as hauntingly beautiful as they say.  Even if we find a cure, it might be too late for me.  Every time I feel the pull of the darkspawn, I think of your voice, soothing me to sleep after a darkspawn nightmare, murmuring that it’s okay.  This will, I think, give me a chance to at least get everyone else to the cure.  Maybe it will help them, and perhaps even be brought back to Ferelden in time to help Alistair.  As much as I do want desperately to live, if I don’t survive, I know that I have lived a good life.   _

_ I told Alistair about what I’m hearing, but I didn’t include it in my letters to Jelah and Amias.  Whether you want to tell them is up to you.  I trust you. _

_ Love, _

_ Sereda _

Zevran’s heart is pounding in his chest as he reads and rereads the second note.  There has to be some secret meaning, some other reason why she wrote this to him than to convey this information.  He doesn’t want to think about her, in some strange distant land and hearing darkspawn song without him there to comfort her.  

At least she has her friends there.  Although, he knows her well enough to know that she’ll feel guilt knowing that all of them (except Shale) will experience the same thing as she is unless they find a cure.  She inducted each of them, after all.  

Without him noticing, Valda had padded outside to rest his head on Zevran’s knee.  It’s a comforting sort of weight, and Zevran scratches him behind his ears.

“Did you know somehow?” Zevran asks him quietly.  “Are you sad, too, boy?” 

Valda gives a weak bark.  

“You should stay for a few days,” Zevran says.  “The children would like that and so would I.”

Valda barks in what Zevran takes as agreement.  Good.

Zevran decides not to explain to the children that Sereda has started hearing darkspawn song.  It’s complicated to explain, and he doesn’t want them to feel this scared, emptiness that he’s feeling.  He won’t tell them anything until he has concrete information about her death.

They come rushing out of the house, big smiles on their faces as they rush to tell Zevran all about what Sereda has written them, the small presents she has enclosed.  A bright red feather for Jelah and a pressed flower of unknown type for Amias.  He lets himself go into their happiness and excitement.


	2. Asleep

Months pass with no word, and Zevran’s hope is waning.  He worries that he’s slowly forgetting the little details about Sereda: the exact way her calloused hands fit against his, the feeling of her soft hair tucked under his chin, the notes of her laugh when she’s so sleepy she can barely stay upright.  The small details that he only began to notice because he began to love her.  

This has happened before, of course, because their duties have parted them for long stretches before.  However, this is the first time that he’s worried that he won’t get to relearn the important details.  This is the first time that he has ever been truly and deeply worried that he isn’t going to see her again.

Zevran stays as upbeat and positive as he can for the children.  If they haven’t heard  _ anything _ , there’s still hope.  At the very least, Shale would come back, complaining of the frailties of their squishy companions.  

Their friends drop in on him over the course of those months.  Leliana, Sten, and Morrigan- with her son- come to check on him and Jelah and Amias.  A few of their friends from Antiva even show up, and Zevran exchanges a surprising amount of letters with Alistair.  There was a time when their friendship was more for Sereda’s benefit than anything else, but over the years, they have truly become friends.  

Isabela surprises them with a visit with Hawke and Fenris in tow.  She and Hawke both laugh and tell sanitized versions of their exploits to the children.  Zevran sits with Amias in his lap while Jelah pokes around Fenris and his sword, despite the fact that it is several times larger than she is.  Truly her mother’s daughter.  The three of them stay for a few days, and Zevran appreciates the company.  

After they’ve left, a stranger approaches with what appears to be a bronto in tow, and Zevran’s heart drops into his stomach.  This can’t be anything good.  It’s certainly not Sereda.  

“I’m a messenger from King Alistair,” the stranger says, looking sideways at the bronto skeptically.  “He said you could ride one of these?”

“What’s this about?” Zevran asks, crossing his arms.

“The king said to come immediately with your children,” she says.  “It’s about your wife.”

“Is Mama back?” Jelah asks.  

“It’s… complicated.  King Alistair wanted to explain himself,” she says.  

“Jelah, go get Amias and both of you pack a bag,” Zevran says, leaning down to kiss her forehead.  “Now.”

“Yes, Papa,” Jelah says solemnly before darting off.  

“Is there anything you can tell me?  Please,” Zevran asks.  

“I’m sorry, ser.  King just said to get you to Denerim as soon as possible.  That’s what the branto is for,” she says.  

“Bronto,” Zevran corrects automatically.  “Very popular with dwarves and they don’t tire as quickly as horses.  They can carry much bigger loads, as well.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, ser, you’re an elf, not a dwarf,” she says.

“My wife’s a dwarf, and my children are half dwarven.  I picked up a thing or two,” Zevran says briskly.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to pack so I can leave.  Tell Alistair that we’ll be there as soon as we can be.”

“Yes, ser,” she says, mounting her horse and racing off.  

Zevran goes inside to pack and in less than an hour, the three of them are on the bronto, heading for Denerim.

-

“Where is she?” Zevran says as he slides off the bronto, heedless of the curious onlookers.  They are tireless beasts, which Zevran appreciates.  A horse never would have been able to carry the three of them and their personal effects.

“Nobody’s quite sure what happened, Zevran,” Alistair says, lifting Jelah and Amias off the bronto with a groan.  “You both are getting to be as big as your mother.  You must get some of your height from Zevran.”

“That didn’t answer my question, Alistair,” Zevran says harshly. 

There are murmurs of disapproval, shocked whispers that a mere  _ elf _ is talking to the king this way, but Zevran doesn’t care.

“She’s up in my chambers.  I didn’t want any curious onlookers,” Alistair says.  “I’ll bring up Jelah and Amias in a few minutes.  Give you some privacy.” 

“Thank you, my friend,” Zevran says, squeezing his arm before turning to his children.  “I’m going to go check on Mama.  Stay here with Uncle Alistair.”

They both nod solemnly and Zevran turns towards the castle.  He manages to walk until he’s out of sight of the children, and then he runs up to Alistair’s quarters as fast as he can.  There are guards standing there, but they move out of his way before he has to threaten them.

Zevran throws open the door to see a small body lying in Alistair’s large, kingly bed.  She’s been tucked in carefully, and she’s so still that at first Zevran worries that she’s dead.  

“I am warning you: I have been given delightful permission to squish soft creatures that break in here,” a familiar voice says.

Zevran tears his eyes away to see Shale standing in the corner.

“Ah, it is the Painted Elf.  I suppose it is an exception,” Shale says.  

“What happened?” Zevran asks as he approaches the bed.  

Once he gets closer, he can see that Sereda is breathing, slow and steady.  That’s a relief at least.  Despite the fear and uncertainty he feels, it is so good to see her again.  His beautiful Sereda.  

“It took the cure, as did the other squishy things.  However, after a time, it weakened and fell unconscious.  The Glowing One and the Angry Elf tried to revive it to no avail, and it was agreed that it was best that I travel back here with it.  I am superior to you squishy things, in that I do not need to stop and rest,” Shale explains.  

Zevran sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out with a slow hand to cup her cheek.  Isn’t that how it always works out in stories?  A touch from your true love, and then everything ends happily.  But this isn’t a story, so she just continues to lay there.  

“What of the others?  Are they ill as well?” Zevran asks, not looking away from her.  

“They are are not.  Hooray for them,” Shale says, sounding utterly bored with the whole affair.

Zevran lays next to Sereda, watching her.  He’s not sure how he feels.  It’s her, but she might not ever wake up.  

“I have missed you, Sereda,” Zevran murmurs.  “I would be quite put out if you didn’t wake up now.”

She just continues to breathe.  

“I will leave it to its squishy feelings,” Shale says, giving them privacy.  

Zevran strokes her hair carefully; it looks like she started growing it out again.  The thought makes him smile a little.  “I love you.  I have longed to see you this impossibly long year, and I know you have missed me as well.  Jelah and Amias are both well, but they will better when they have their mama back.  Who else is going to teach Jelah how to be a real, terrifying berserker?  Oghren?  And who will satisfy Amias’ curiosity about his dwarven heritage?  Perhaps, Bhelen, hm?  Is that what you want, my dear?”

Nothing.  

Zevran hears the patter of small feet as well as heavy human feet, and he wipes at his eyes as he sits up.  

“Mama!” Jelah and Amias squeal in unison.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Jelah asks as they crawl up with him.  

“I don’t know,” Zevran says, looking up at Alistair.  

“I have contacted anyone who might have a clue.  So far, nothing,” Alistair says.  “Maybe the rest of the Wardens she went with will send a message with more information when they can.  They thought it was best to get her back here as soon as possible, though.”

Zevran nods in agreement.  “I am glad that Shale brought her here.  What about the Urn of Sacred Ashes?”

Sereda’s reaction to being saved by some Andrastian relic would be… interesting.  But at least she would be awake to make it.  

“It disappeared, and with Haven destroyed by Corypheus, there are very few leads.  I’ve sent word to Brother Genitivi.  If anyone knows anything, he does,” Alistair says.

“Good,” Zevran says, looking down at his peacefully sleeping wife.  

Alistair puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.  “You are all welcome to stay here for however long you need to, of course.” 

“Thank you, Alistair,” Zevran says.  

“How can we help Mama?” Jelah asks.  “We wanna help.”

“I know, sweet pea,” Zevran says.  “The best thing you can do is talk to her right now.  Mama has missed you and Amias both, and I’m sure she wants to know what you’ve done since she left.”

“Okay!  Mama always says I’m a real good talker,” Jelah says.  “But Amias, you gotta talk, too.”

“I’m going to talk to Uncle Alistair for a little bit.  If you need anything, call,” Zevran says, kissing the top of both of their heads before getting up regretfully.  

They move to the corner of the room, and Zevran watches with a sad smile as Jelah launches into an excited story about learning to swim.  Amias peeps in with a correction or addition, but mostly seems content to be curled up under Sereda’s arm like usual.  

“Sereda hasn’t had to eat, sleep, or pee since she fell unconscious,” Alistair says quietly.  “Or, well, I’m assuming she hasn’t taken a piss since Shale didn’t complain about disgusting, squishy bodily functions.”

Zevran nods, leaning against the wall.  “What if it’s a demon trapping her in the Fade?  That could explain it, and since Corypheus did whatever he did, the Fade’s been weird, right?  Maybe it can keep her alive from there.”

“Why just Sereda and not everyone else?” Alistair asks.

Zevran shrugs.  “Maybe it was a trap.  You know that Sereda would insist on trying it first, especially since she was already hearing the darkspawn.”

“You’re right, of course,” Alistair says.  

“Oh!” Zevran exclaims.  “I had meant to ask, I apologize.  How are you?  Are you hearing the song?”

“You have a lot on your mind, Zevran.  But… I’m honestly not sure.  Sometimes I hear the wisps of a song, and I’m not sure if it’s musicians practicing, my mind playing tricks on me, or, you know.  A sign of my impending descent into madness.  Either way, that’s probably not a good sign,” Alistair says, frowning.  

“If you need anything…” Zevran isn’t really sure what he could possibly do, but he’ll do whatever he can.

“Sereda has already found the cure,” Alistair says, and Zevran looks up at him in surprise.  “I can’t feel the Taint in her anymore.  She’s cured.”

“Shale didn’t quite mention that,” Zevran says, heart racing.  “So if she wakes up, she won’t be hearing darkspawn or have to die.  She’ll just be… Sereda.”

“Yeah!” Alistair says.  “No nasty darkspawn taint or weird music or tragic dying.  It’s great!”

Zevran presses his lips together to keep a strangled noise from escaping.  He had assumed that since Sereda was unconscious, the cure had been a farce.  It had done  _ something _ , but not cured her of the Taint.  This means that if she doesn’t wake up, they’ll lose out on their whole lives together.  

This feels like more than he can bear, all of a sudden.  These past months of loneliness and fear, coupled with the sudden surge of hope that’s been given to him and taken away in equal measure today, have been too much.  Before he can do anything, Alistair has grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him out into the hall.  

“Alistair, I cannot lose her.  Not now.  Not like this, when she’s right  _ there _ and finally cured,” Zevran says, voice catching in his throat.  “I can’t.  I can’t.”

Zevran crosses his arms, pulling at himself to try to calm himself down.  He can feel the tears prickling at his eyes, and he feels so embarrassed because he doesn’t lose control of himself.  At least not in front of anyone that isn’t Sereda.  

Alistair squeezes his shoulders and bends down so they’re at eye level.  “Hey, hey, Zevran.  If anyone can beat this, it’s Sereda.  She’s the strongest person that either of us have ever known.  It’s a little soon to be giving up on her, yeah?”  

Zevran nods, trying to regain some semblance of composure.  

“I miss her too, Zevran.  You know I consider her a sister,” Alistair says softly.  “I know it’s not the same, but I’m going to do everything in my power to get her back.  And since she made me king, I have an awful lot of power.”

Zevran he wipes at his eyes, regaining his composure.  “Speaking of siblings and kings, you didn’t tell Bhelen about this, did you?”  

Alistair gives a strained laugh.  “Oh yeah, because I want to be the one to officially confirm to him that Sereda has kids.  I mean, Bhelen knows about Jelah and Amias, but he doesn’t officially know, and if I told him that she was sick and he sent someone and he found out officially, she would wake up just to murder me.”  

Zevran joins him in his pained laughter.  “That is true.  Nothing angers her quite like Bhelen and the notion of him ever coming in contact with them.  She would pace and positively scream about the idea when she was pregnant with the twins.  It was slightly terrifying to behold.  I think Anders wet himself once.”

“And she will pace and yell about Bhelen again,” Alistair says.  “Because she’ll wake up, free of the Taint, and overjoyed to see you and her children.”

“You have been such a good friend to Sereda- to both of us- over the years.  Thank you,” Zevran says.  

“You’ve been a good friend, too, and I probably would have been assassinated a few times over without your assistance.  I owe both of you a lot,” Alistair says.

Zevran laughs, clapping his shoulder.  “I am glad to have been able to help, my old friend.”

“If you need to rest, I’d be happy to watch the little squirts for you.  I know you love them, but everyone needs a break sometime,” Alistair says.  

“Don’t you have a country to run?” Zevran asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re between world ending events right now, so there’s a little less on my plate than usual,” Alistair says.  “It’s quite nice, actually.  Leaves plenty of room for babysitting.”

“How nicely timed for us,” Zevran says dryly.  “But for now, I want to get back in there with my family.”

“Of course,” Alistair says.  “I’ll send a raven to Weisshaupt to have them send some mages to check on Sereda, since things are still… tense from the war.  See if she is in the Fade.”

“Weisshaupt is not as fond of Sereda as we are.  I am uncertain that they will help,” Zevran says.  

“As far as they’ll know, Sereda is the only one with a cure.  They don’t want to die.  They’ll send whatever I ask for,” Alistair says with confidence.

“Ah, my friend, you have gotten much better at this,” Zevran says.  

“I’ll have some food sent up in an hour or so,” Alistair says, patting his arm, “but for now, I’ll give you some privacy.”

Zevran goes back into the bedroom.  Part of him had hoped that some miracle would have occurred, and he would see her sitting up in bed and talking like normal.  Instead, Jelah and Amias are still chatting away.  

It still warms Zevran’s heart to see them, though.  There’s a happiness in them both that Zevran hasn’t seen in awhile.  They had been losing hope, too.  He only hopes that this renewed hope isn’t more damaging in the long run.

“How is Mama?” Zevran asks, hugging them close.  

“She really likes hearing about Valda!” Jelah says.  

Zevran laughs.  “That does not surprise me, but I hope that you have told her about what you have done this past year as well.”

“Of course!” Jelah says.  

Zevran kisses the the top of their heads, watching Sereda.  He doesn’t know the best way to deal with this for them, if they can’t find a way to wake Sereda up.  They can’t live in this room forever.  It’s not a prospect that he wants to think about, of course, but he has to for their sake.  

-

It is three agonizingly long weeks until the mages from Weisshaupt arrive.  During that time, Zevran sees plenty of charlatans trying to profit off the illness of the king’s dear friend.  It makes him angry, but he has a sudden compassion for people who fall for scams.  Every bit of him wants to believe that this amulet or that poultice will wake Sereda up, but Zevran knows better.  

Alistair forces Zevran to go out and take walks every day.  Sometimes he takes the walks with Jelah and Amias, sometimes with Alistair, and sometimes by himself.  It had irked Zevran at first, but he understands that it’s important for him and the children to all do  _ something  _ else every day.  

And then the Wardens arrive, marching up to Sereda’s room like they own the place.  Zevran sends the children to go play; they’re now very familiar with the palace and all the best places to hang out.  The Wardens try to shoo Zevran out as well, but  _ that’s _ not happening.  

He stands in the corner as the Wardens poke and prod his wife, waving their staffs and doing whatever mage things they do to determine what’s wrong.  It feels like endless hours, but really only a few minutes pass.  

“From what we can tell, she ought to be dead,” one of the Wardens says.

“She’s doing an awful of breathing for a dead woman,” Alistair says dryly.  

“Thank you for that assessment,” the Warden says, crossing his arms.  “I’m aware.  I’m also aware that, somehow, she’s trapped in the Fade by some sort of demon.  Considering she’s a dwarf, I’m not sure how, but that’s what’s keeping her unconscious.”

“Demons have trapped her in the Fade before-” Alistair says.

“Twice,” Zevran interrupts to add.

“And she’s always been able to fight her way out,” Alistair says.  “So do we just wait or can we get her out or what?”

“Waiting is one option.  Although, I have no idea how long she can survive in this state.  This is all very unusual,” the Warden says.  

Zevran’s lips twitch into a smile.  “That is her specialty, yes?”

“It is,” Alistair says.  “But if it’s a question, let’s just go in and get her.”

“There’s no guarantee that whoever goes in will come out.  Whatever has trapped her in the Fade is incredibly powerful,” the Warden says.  “And there aren’t enough of us to send any more than one person after her.”

Alistair nods in understanding and sends the Wardens away.

“If they can send someone in after her, we can get her out of there,” Alistair says with plain excitement.

“I can’t,” Zevran says, feeling his own heart break as he says so.  “I can’t go in after her.”

“What?” Alistair asks.  

Zevran crosses the room to sit beside her.  He runs his fingers through her hair comfortingly.  This is the most difficult thing that he’s ever done, or rather: not do.

“If we’re both trapped in the Fade, Jelah and Amias will become orphans,” Zevran says.  “Sereda would never want me to risk that.  She would rather die first.”

“Oh… I hadn’t thought of that,” Alistair says, voice suddenly rough.

“Fatherhood.  It changes your priorities,” Zevran says.  “I want to go in after her, but I can’t.”

“You’re right, of course,” Alistair says, squeezing his shoulder gently.  “You’re making the right choice for your family, Zevran.”

“I am sorry, Sereda,” Zevran says softly, pressing his lips to her forehead.  “I will always love you, and I will keep my promise to you.”

The door opens and the twins run in.  

“They wouldn’t say anything!” Jelah says, as they climb up into bed with them.  “They won’t say how they’re gonna wake up Mama!”

“I am afraid,” Zevran’s voice catches in his throat and he has to cough to clear it.  “There is no way.  There is nothing the Wardens can do to help her.”

He can’t ask anyone to do for Sereda what he himself is unwilling to do.  It feels as if he’s betraying her, even though he knows that she’s doing what she wants by making sure that Jelah and Amias will at least have their father.  

It’s best to keep any notion that there’s a solution from them, however.  For a long time, Zevran had felt guilty for killing his own mother when he was born.  He won’t risk them feeling any kind of similar guilt for Sereda’s fate.  This was his choice to make and no one else’s.  

“There has to be a way,” Amias says, voice wavering.  “Papa,  _ please _ .”

Jelah is looking up at him, wide eyed and desperate.  He can watch the hope fading out of her, the hope fading slowly out of both of them.  This is a sight that he had never wanted to see.  This is the pain that they had wanted to protect them from.

It’s so tempting to say that they may find a solution tomorrow.  To keep the hope alive for them one more day, so they’ll stop looking at him like this.  That would be selfish, however.

“I am afraid, my loves, that sometimes there isn’t a solution.  Sometimes, we must let go, even of the ones we love,” Zevran says.

“You can’t give up on Mama!” Jelah protests, pushing him.  

“She is lost to us,” Zevran says.  This is the first time in his life that he’s ever skirted around the word ‘dead.’ 

Zevran lets Jelah’s tiny fists beat against his chest over and over as he pulls her close.  Her tears are staining his shirt, but his tears are getting in her hair.  Finally, she succumbs and collapses, sobbing against him as he rubs her back.

Amias curls against Sereda, just looking up at her face.  He doesn’t even look upset, but Zevran knows that that will change. 

There’s a gaping pain in his chest.  It’s as if he’s been gutted, knowing that he’s going to have to leave her in the Fade.  This is a loss that Zevran has been preparing for since she told him the Grey Warden’s secret.  Longer, even- from the beginning, he had anticipated that he would lose her, one way or another.

And yet, how could he have expected it to be like this?  Him and their children, crying together as Sereda sleeps before them, free of the Taint but trapped in the Fade, possibly being tormented by some demon.  

It’s a long, unbearable night, but none of them can pull themselves away.

-

“Go to bed,” Alistair says softly the next morning.  “You all need your sleep.”

Zevran feels more exhausted than he ever remembers being, but he can’t move.  Jelah is pressed against his chest, holding his hand in both of hers, and Amias is still curled up beside Sereda, looking up at her.  His eyes are drooping, but he’s still awake.  

“We’re fine,” Zevran says, barely moving his lips.

“I mean it,” Alistair says firmly.  “Go on, to the next room.”

His voice is more authoritative than he’s used to hearing from Alistair, and somehow, he finds himself being steered out of the room with his arms tight around Jelah.  

“No,” Zevran says, trying to struggle against Alistair’s grip.  “Not yet.  Don’t make me leave her yet, Alistair.”

Alistair pushes him gently onto the bed and then hands him Amias.  His children have never felt heavier.  

“They need sleep.  They need you,” Alistair says.  There’s a note of… something in his tone that Zevran can’t quite place.  

“Alistair…” Zevran protests.  He wants to be with Sereda, to hear the beautiful lie of her breathing.  “Please.”

“Trust me, my old friend,” Alistair says, pushing him so he’s laying down.  “It’s going to be okay.”

With a surprising amount of care, Alistair tucks them in.  It reminds Zevran of the first time he ran up the stairs to see Sereda and she was tucked in so nicely; Alistair must’ve done that, too.  

“She’s gone,” Zevran says plaintively.  

“I know,” Alistair says, squeezing his shoulder.  “But it’s going to be okay.”

Zevran turns on his side to watch his two beautiful children.  They’ve both managed to fall asleep, but they still look troubled.  He can’t fall asleep, but he doesn’t feel fully awake, either.  It’s some kind of foggy, in between state.

The closest he’s ever felt to this is when he realized the truth of things after killing Rinna, but it still feels so vastly different.  This is deeper, almost wiser.  He’s lost his wife, who has been there from his lowest lows to his highest highs for over a decade.  The first person to truly love him, to not see him as a commodity but as a person with real value.  

Yet, this time, he doesn’t want to run away or to die.  As awful and empty as he feels now, he knows that he’ll find a way to heal.  If not for himself, then for their children and for Sereda herself.  She would never want him to give up.  She would want him to live and be happy.

He’s so distracted by his thoughts that he barely registers the click of the lock as Alistair leaves the room.  He’s too full of grief to react to it anyway.  


	3. Family

“Papa!  Papa!” a loud voice and four small hands shake him awake.

Zevran bolts upright, tense, ready to face whatever the threat is.  Then he remembers where he is and why, and he droops a little.  There’s no one to fight, just this empty space in his chest.  

“We can’t see Mama,” Amias says with a frown.  “The door is locked.” 

Zevran gets up and pads over to the door.  Sure enough, the door refuses to open.  He frowns and tries again, sure it’s just stuck.  

Then he remembers the click.  Alistair locked them in here.  Even though there’s no keyhole, it’s a stupid move, considering the room has a window so Zevran can easily escape.  

“Stay here,” Zevran says, running his fingers through his hair and walking towards the window.

“Where are you going?” Jelah asks.

Zevran manages a smooth smile.  “I’m showing off, of course.”

He opens the window and looks out to find the balcony for the next room.  It’s easy enough to hoist himself out of the window, grabbing hold of the stones so he can climb over to the balcony.  The strain and stretch of his muscles feels good, wakes him up.  He needs to climb more castle walls.

Once he’s dropped onto the balcony, he looks back to see two small faces watching him.  They’re leaning over the edge of the window a little, and Zevran frowns and gestures at them to back up.  The last thing he needs is one of them to plummet out the window.  

Of course they don’t retreat fully, but they’re not teetering anymore, so he opens the door to Alistair’s room.  It takes him a moment to register what he sees.  

Sereda is laying in the same spot where she has been the entire time that they’ve been here.  But she’s not alone.  Laying next to her is none other than Alistair.

The picture of Alistair and Sereda asleep together isn’t altogether new.  They had both fallen asleep together after many a nightmare during their time fighting the Blight.  It had never made Zevran jealous, and it still doesn’t.  Mostly it just confuses him.  Alistair wouldn’t do this kind of creepy thing for no reason.

“Alistair…” Zevran says, shaking his shoulder.  “I hope you have a wonderful explanation for being asleep in bed with my wife.”

When he doesn’t wake up, it hits him.  Alistair had done what he refused to do.  He’s in the Fade, trying to save Sereda.  

“Papa!” Jelah yells, pounding on the door.  “Let us out!”

“Just a moment, sweet pea!” Zevran calls back.

“I’ll climb like you did!” Jelah yells.  

That’s enough to make Zevran dart over to the door and unlock it, pulling it open.  He frowns down at Jelah.

“No,” Zevran says firmly.

Jelah crosses her arms.  “I could.”

“No,” Zevran repeats, lifting them both up.  

They’re starting to get too heavy for him to pick up, but Zevran doesn’t let that stop him.  Especially not under these circumstances.  Both of them cling to him, small fingers digging into his chest and back, soft cheeks pressed against his shoulders. 

“Is Uncle Alistair dead too?” Amias asks quietly.  

“It’s very complicated,” Zevran says.  

“Explain it!” Jelah demands.

Before Zevran can do so, guards spring through the door, swords drawn.  They yell something unintelligible over the roaring in his ears and the scared yelps of his children.  Time seems to slow down as Zevran tries to figure out a way out of this.

-

Sereda stares blankly ahead in this silent part of the Fade.  She has done terrible things.  She doesn’t know why she did them.  Why she gave her brother her children, to raise as a prince and princess in the deadly cage of Orzammar.  Why she handed Zevran to the Crows, his bright amber eyes going dim as the Crows took their revenge.  Why she wrapped her hands around Alistair’s throat as he begged for help.  All her friends died or worse at her hand.  

All she knows is that now she sits on a throne, paid for with the blood and happiness of the people she loves the most.  She had joked once that this would happen.  Looking up into Zevran’s trusting gaze, deep in the bowels of Orzammar, Sereda had joked that all Aeducans have betrayal running through their veins.  

Zevran, understanding the joke for the fear that it had masked, had laughed gently as he cupped her face.  “You, my dear Sereda, are almost painfully trustworthy.  An assassin does not come to trust others easily, if he wishes to live, and yet here we are.  I trust you, and I assure you, I want very much to live now,” he had said, kissing her doubts away.  

He had thrown those words back in her face as he watched her hand their children to Bhelen.  “Perhaps it will be better this way.  They can learn to be real Aeducans like their mother.”  A cold, cruel laugh that sounded  _ wrong _ coming out of his mouth.

Sereda never leaves her throne, never looks down, lest the heavy crown slip and fall.  All she can do is sit and stare out at her domain.  She traded everything for this.  Her precious children, the love of her life, and all of her friends.  All for this empty crown.  

Footsteps crunch like glass in her silent kingdom.  It would startle her, if she felt anything but empty sorrow anymore.  She keeps staring ahead.

“Sereda,” a voice she can’t place says.  It pulls at her aching, empty chest.  “Sereda, look at me.”

There is nothing that she wants to look at.  Everyone she has ever loved is gone.  She traded them all for this aching abyss.  

“Come on, Sereda.  Don’t give up on me now,” the voice says.  Pulling at a forgotten part of her.  “Look at me.  Or just say something.”

She doesn’t know how to use her voice, not here.  There was a time when she talked, when she yelled.  She screamed, both in pleasure and in pain.  That time is gone and she forgets what it felt like.  

“It’s Alistair.”

And that’s wrong because she strangled him.  He’s dead.  

“You’re in the Fade, Sereda.  Zevran needs you.  Jelah and Amias need you.  They need you to fight this demon and wake up,” the voice says.  

At the mention of Zevran and her children, Sereda tears her eyes away from her domain.  She looks down to see her friend, bruises around his neck, looking up at her beseechingly.  

The crown slips from her head and shatters between them, the noise tearing at Sereda’s eardrums.  It makes her whole body want to flinch, but she’s too tired to move.  She can’t even focus on him properly.  

“You’re a lie,” Sereda’s voice crawls out of her throat.  It hurts.  “You’re dead.  So’re they.  Everyone is dead or worse.  Because of me.”

“Do you remember when that demon trapped us here?  When you had to rescue me and Zevran and Wynne?  You had to make us realize that we were in the Fade,” Alistair pleads.  He’s climbing up her throne, but not getting any closer.  “You became a golem, remember?”

Everything in her brain is so hazy that she can’t remember, even if it does sound familiar.  Anger, bright and piercing and painful enough to cut through this fog, comes from somewhere.  She follows the feeling to an island, to Zevran, to Crows torturing him as he laughs.  So angry she becomes a golem and grinds the Crows beneath her hands.  How dare they hurt him.  She doesn’t love him then, not yet, but the beginnings are there.  

“Sereda, you found the cure.  You’re cured of the Taint.  You have to fight this demon.  For Jelah and Amias’ sake.  For Zevran’s.  For mine,” Alistair says, looking up at her so earnestly.  “They’re all alive, and they all miss you.  You can’t give up now because your children need you.”

Sereda thinks about becoming a golem.  She remembers the raw power.  Being taller than everyone else.  Impervious to any hits that came her way.  It’s been decades, but she remembers how that felt.  The only part of the Fade that she’s ever enjoyed.  She pulls all of her effort into feeling that way again.  

Suddenly, she’s tall and made of rock, her throne crushed beneath her.  The anger becomes more than a memory; it becomes the only thing that she can feel after so long of feeling nothing but despair.  It’s almost blinding.

Alistair whoops.  “There you go!”

“Where is it?” Sereda asks in a gravelly voice.

“Come on,” Alistair says, leading the way.  

The fight is long and brutal and her whole existence comes down to crushing this monstrosity between her giant fists.  She’s cured of the Taint.  Nothing is keeping her here, away from Zevran and her children.  Nothing.  

-

The world is loud and painful when Sereda reenters it, but she doesn’t have time to slowly adjust because the first thing she hears is a rough voice yelling.  Jelah and Amias are crying in the corner, even as Zevran tries to soothe them.  

She opens her eyes to see Zevran beside her, trying to charm the guard as only he can.  Working on pure instinct, Sereda reaches out with an arm and grabs the guard, squeezing tightly and pulling him away from Zevran.  

“If you lay a hand on my family, I’ll kill you,” Sereda says, voice rough and low.  

Sereda heaves him further away from Zevran, letting him go and getting to her feet.  She feels strange, not quite in her body, as yells and shouts surround her.  It’s too hard to pick through the voices and keep her eyes on the guards, so she opts for watching them.

Standing between her family and the rest of the room, she curls her hands into fists.  She won’t let them down again, even as the guard brings his hand back to hit her.  

“Stand down!  Stand down!” Alistair yells.  “You too, Sereda.”  

Sereda’s hands are still curled into fists as the guards back away.  She’s shaking even though she’s trying desperately to stop.  

“Sereda, you’re safe,” Zevran’s voice cuts through everything else.  “You’re in Denerim with your family, and you’re safe.”

Sereda doesn’t look away until the guards are gone and Alistair has closed the door.  Then she turns around to see Zevran crouching, watching her.  The last time she remembers seeing him, the Crows had beat the life out of him.  The sight of his dead eyes looking up at her is burned into her memory.  But here he is, beautiful and alive and smiling and hers.  

She stumbles towards him, a hand extended to touch his face.  He’s so solidly real, and she ends up falling into his arms with a soft sob.  

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry,” Sereda repeats over and over as she holds him close.  

“It’s okay.  You’re here now,” Zevran soothes, not knowing that that’s not what she’s apologizing for.  

Jelah and Amias run into them at full speed, so solid as they slam into them.  Their entire family, all together again.  Sereda can barely believe it.

-

Even though she feels deeply exhausted- despite, apparently, having been asleep for months- she lets Jelah and Amias pull her on a walk around the castle.  Her legs feel shaky, but she’s so happy to be with them again.  They’re happy and they’re on the surface, not deep down in Orzammar.

Finally, her shaky legs give out, her exhaustion overcoming fear and excitement, and she leans heavily against the castle wall.  Zevran moves with her, helping ease her to the ground.  He’s kept a hand on her since she woke up.  

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Jelah asks, climbing into her lap.  

“I’m just tired,” Sereda says with a smile, drawing Amias into her lap as well.  “Don’t worry.”

“You’ve been asleep for months, Mama!” Jelah says.  

“Papa said you were gone,” Amias says as he presses his cheek against her shoulder.  “That you weren’t going to wake up.”

Zevran settles beside her, wrapping an arm around her.  “I was, quite happily, mistaken.”  

“Uncle Alistair had to come into the Fade and help me remember what was real,” Sereda says.  “But now I’m back, and I have missed you all so much.”

This is, apparently, the wrong thing to say.  Zevran stiffens just a little, and both of their children pull away from her to look up at him accusingly.  

“You said that the Wardens said that there was no way to wake Mama up,” Jelah says, for once not yelling.  

“Uncle Alistair wouldn’t’ve hid it from you,” Amias says, squinting at him.

There’s a long silence and Sereda looks slowly between the three of them.  She has no idea what happened while she was asleep.  

“I…” Zevran pauses before clearing his throat.  “I was too afraid to enter the Fade and save your mother.  I am sorry.”

“What?” Jelah asks, lip quivering.  

“I thought you were brave,” Amias says, frowning. 

“Your father is the bravest man I know,” Sereda interjects.  “I don’t know what happened, but I know that.”  

“Whatever,” Jelah says, getting up off of her and pulling Amias with her.  

“No, no,” Zevran says, also standing up and smoothly hiding his expression from her.  “I will go.  You and Amias stay with Mama.  I’m sure that she’s missed you greatly.”

“Yeah, let’s stay,” Amias says, pulling Jelah back into Sereda’s arms.  

“I’ll talk to you later,” Sereda says, looking up at Zevran.  She’s missed them all more than she can say.  “I love you.”

Zevran smiles at her, and it’s at least partially genuine.  He leans down to kiss her, the first time in so long, and it’s so hard not to pull him closer again.  Her children need her, however.

Zevran turns and leaves as Sereda watches him go with a heavy feeling in her chest.  She turns back to her children, eager to hear about everything she’s missed.

-

Not even fifteen minutes later, she hears a great bark and the pounding of paws on paving stone.  Suddenly, there’s a giant mabari competing with her children for space on her lap.  

They somehow manage to make room, even though Sereda is fairly certain that she’s about to be squished flat.  It’s worth it, though, when the familiar mabari tongue is lapping at her face.

“Hey, boy, you miss me?” Sereda asks, laughing as she manages to pat Valda’s flank, despite the two squirming children in her arms.  

Valda barks in affirmation, licking her face again.

“He brought us all your letters!” Jelah says.  “And then he’d stay for a while.”

“Watchin’ out for our little pups, hm?” Sereda says as he nuzzles her face.

Valda barks again.  

“It was always good to see him,” Amias says.

It’s so comforting to know that her oldest and most unwavering friend was watching over her husband and children.  Even if he is a dog.

-

It’s a long day, but worth it to get to spend time with her children once more.  They’re so much bigger than when she left, but she still carries them easily up to their room, Valda trailing along behind.  It’s the sort of thing that might have happened before she left, except for all the humans and stairs.  She tucks them in tightly, kissing their foreheads gently.

“Don’t leave, Mama,” Jelah insists, grabbing her hand.

“Okay, sweetie,” Sereda says, sitting down.  “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

“Tell us a story?” Amias asks, eyes wide.  “An underground story?”

“Yeah!” Jelah agrees.  “Papa tried to tell us about living underground, but he’s not as good at that as you are.”

Sereda smiles, squeezing Jelah’s hand gently.  “That’s because he was born on the surface, like you.”

She tells them of the ancient thaigs that their people lost long, long ago, and of the way it felt to have the chance to explore them once more.  The sense of history, of sadness.  Of loss and recovery.  It seems fitting.  

Finally, they steal off to sleep, and Sereda presses careful kisses to their foreheads again.  She watches their beautiful faces, choking back her tears.  Over a year since she last saw them, last held them close, and time passes much slower in the clutches of a despair demon.  Part of her worries that it’s all going to disappear somehow, that this is a farce, but she can’t let herself think that way.  Otherwise, she’ll never truly be free of the demon.  

Now that the children are asleep, she can find out why Zevran is lying to Jelah and Amias about freeing her from the Fade.  But first, she has to take care of Valda.

“I know that you want to come join me and Zevran in bed for cuddles, but we haven’t seen each other in over a year, Valda,” Sereda says, stroking his head.  “You understand, right?”

Valda growls and puts his paws on her shoulders.  He hasn’t done that in a long long time, now that he’s getting older.  

“Aw, boy, you know that I love you.  But, Zevran, you know?” Sereda says.  “We have things to talk about.  There will probably be crying.  I know you hate that.”

Valda barks and licks her cheek.  

“Yeah, I missed you, too.  But there’s no one else I could trust to keep my family safe,” Sereda consoles.

Valda licks her cheek again before getting back down on all fours.  He nuzzles her one last time before padding off to his own bed.  

Now it’s time to finally be alone with Zevran.  Eagerly, she walks down the hall to their room and throws the door open.  

“Hello, dear husband!” Sereda says, faltering in the doorway as she sees Alistair sitting on the couch next to Zevran.  “And Alistair!”

Zevran smiles, crossing the room in an instant to take her hand.  He leads her to the couch and curls up in her lap.  His arms drape around her shoulders as hers slide around his waist to pull him even closer.  She blows his hair out of her face; his hair has gotten longer.  

“Yes, I thought I’d make sure you’re okay.  What I saw… What you said… It didn’t sound good, Sereda,” Alistair says with concern.  

Truthfully, all she wants is to be alone with Zevran, but she can’t just kick Alistair out.  He did just risk his life to save hers. 

“What you did was stupid, Alistair.  You have a country to run,” Sereda deflects.  “I don’t think kings are supposed to make day trips to the Fade.  How did you even convince the mages to send you?”

“I, you know, threatened to have them all executed if they didn’t,” Alistair says sheepishly.  “I mean!  I wouldn’t’ve actually executed anyone.  But it seemed like the quickest way to persuade them, and I had to do it before Zevran or the children woke up.”

“And they believed it?  Either you’re getting scarier or Weishauppt is losing what little spine it had.  I’m inclined to believe the latter, to be honest,” Sereda says dryly.

Alistair huffs.  “What ever happened to ‘wow, thanks for saving my life, Alistair’ or ‘Alistair, you’re so brave for risking your life?’  You don’t get any respect for life saving these days.”

Sereda rolls her eyes.  “Wow, Alistair, you’re a bonehead, but you’re a brave bonehead.”

“You are very welcome,” Alistair says.  “I love you, too.”

“Yeah.  Love you,” Sereda says, smiling at him.  “Even if what you did was dumb.”

Alistair’s brows furrow a little bit, and he looks a little lost for a moment.  “I spent hours listening to Jelah cry and Amias… not.  I dunno.  It was the only thing I could do.  I couldn’t just let them lose their mother.”

She can feel the surprise radiating from Zevran.  

“I didn’t know that you were there,” Zevran says.  

“You weren’t exactly paying close attention.  You were, y’know, mourning.”  Alistair shrugs a little uncomfortably.  “I didn’t want to intrude, but I didn’t want to be anywhere else, either.  But then I decided why mourn when I could just have fun in the Fade instead?”  

“Thank you,” Sereda says sincerely.  “From our children, too- although, I’m sure they’ll heap plenty of praise on you over the next few weeks.”

“How long do you want to stay?” Alistair asks.

“Until the other Wardens come back,” Sereda says, “and I know that they’re okay and that you’re going to be okay.”

“I have to say… it feels kinda weird not to feel you.  No Blight in you anymore,” Alistair says.  

“I’ve barely had time to think about it,” Sereda says.  “But, yeah, you’re sitting there and there’s no… feeling.  Corruption feeling.  You know.”

“But how does it feel?” Alistair presses.  

“It felt like fire at first, but the good kind, even if it was more painful than the Joining.  Lasted longer, too, like it had to burn out all the Blight inside of me.  After, it feels like…” Sereda presses her face against Zevran’s side as she tries to come up with the words.  “Like finally, finally being whole again.  Not dirty.  Not full of something disgusting.  Just a whole, real person again.  I had forgotten what it felt like, and it’s so good, Alistair.”

Sereda realizes that there are tears pricking at her eyes and she blinks them away.  They’re both watching her- Zevran hasn’t looked away from her since she walked in here- and she smiles reassuringly.  

“That’s good,” Alistair says with a tight nod.  

“You’re hearing it,” Sereda says, recognizing the look in his eyes.  Her heart sinks.  “The song.  Loudly.”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Alistair says.  

“Yeah,” Sereda agrees.

“You didn’t say anything,” Zevran interrupts.  “You said you weren’t certain.”

“I wasn’t, at first,” Alistair says, “and by the time I was sure, I figured you’d rather focus on Sereda.”  

“The cure is coming.  I told them to bring it here no matter what, at least.  To make sure you got it,” Sereda says.  

“Yeah, yeah, well, you still haven’t said whether or not you’re okay,” Alistair says, crossing his arms.  

“I got to tuck my children in tonight, tell them a bedtime story.  I’ve got my husband in my arms for the first time in over a year,” Sereda says, pressing her lips against Zevran’s ribcage absently.  “And you, of course, over there, where I can make fun of you easily.  On top of that all, I’m not hearing darkspawn for the first time in a long time.  I’m not dying anymore, not stuck at some despair demon’s mercy, and I feel  _ alive _ .  Everything else will sort itself out.”

Alistair makes a disbelieving noise, but nods.  “Okay, okay.”

“You should get some rest.  From what Jelah and Amias have said, you’ve been doing an awful lot of extra work trying to keep their minds off of everything.  I appreciate it.  You’re very good with them,” Sereda says.  

“I figured I owed the both of you,” Alistair says.  “For everything.  Also, they’re much more pleasant than my advisors.  They think I’m cool because I fought darkspawn with their mama, and it’s hard to focus in meetings anyway.”

“Still.  Rest,” Sereda says.  

“I believe what Sereda is being quite tactful about is the fact that it has been over a year since we have seen each other, and I seem to remember you complaining loudly about us having sex in the privacy of our tent when we were on the road together.  I imagine you’re no more eager to join in than you were back then,” Zevran says lightly.  

Alistair turns slightly red as he gets to his feet.  “Ooooh, gotcha.  Then, uh, goodnight to you both.  Have fun.  Glad we’re all alive and everything.”

“Me too,” Sereda says with a grin.  “You’re not going to die either, you know.  I didn’t come all this way just to let the darkspawn snatch you away at the last minute.”

“Yes, Paragon Hero of Ferelden,” Alistair teases with a small smile.  He knows the titles always make her roll her eyes. 

“Okay, shoo now that you’re getting all formal on me, King of Ferelden.  I’ve got  _ reuniting _ to do with Zevran,” Sereda says.

Alistair shakes his head before leaving the room, the door shutting with a resounding thud.  Finally, finally, she’s alone with Zevran.  

He shifts so he’s straddling her, hands sliding to cup her face near reverently.  She looks up at him, hands resting at his waist, with a blissful smile on her face.  It’s so good to be with him.  Once she started hearing the music, she thought she would never see him again.  

“Hi,” Sereda says softly, voice catching in her throat.  “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Zevran says, pressing his forehead against hers.  “I had thought that… you know.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sereda says.  “But here I am.”

“More beautiful than the day we met,” Zevran murmurs.

“Now, why are you lying to our children about why you refused to enter the Fade?” Sereda asks with a raised eyebrow.  “You have been many things, my love, but you have always been brave.  You and I both know that you only refused to come after me because you could be trapped, too, and then they would be left orphans, and then I would be very cross with you.” 

Zevran frowns, clearly not appreciating this turn of conversation.  He sits back a little, but still keeps touching her face, like he’s worried that she’s going to disappear again.  

“So straight to business, my dear,” Zevran says, trying to laugh it off.

“Zevran…”

“You can’t tell them,” Zevran says.  “Please, Sereda.”

“Why not?” Sereda asks.  “You were being self sacrificing and a good father.  There’s no reason to hide that.  I’m certainly proud of you.”

“I told them that there was no way to save you, and then Alistair saved you, so I had to make up an excuse,” Zevran explains.

“But why not just tell them the truth?” Sereda asks.  

“For many years, I believed that I was at fault for my mother’s death.  I didn’t want our children to feel the same way.  Leaving you in the Fade was my choice to make, and my burden to bear- not theirs.  And it still is,” Zevran says softly.  

“You are such a good man, Zevran.  Almost too good,” Sereda says with a soft smile.  “But now that I’m back, can’t you tell them?  They don’t have to feel guilty when I’m here.  They can know the truth.”

Zevran shakes his head.  “The idea is still there.  The idea that without them, their mother would have been safer.”

“If that’s what you think is best.  I’m not sure I agree, though,” Sereda says.  

“They were already so upset that I stayed behind with them instead of going with you.  For the first few weeks, they were so desperate to get me to follow you that one time I found them planning a route to Amaranthine so they could go live with the Wardens and I’d have nothing to do but follow you,” Zevran says, voice cracking.  “Jelah pitched a fit when I found out and stopped them.  They already feel guilty.”

“I didn’t know,” Sereda says softly.  

“You weren’t here!” Zevran exclaims.  “You were gone!”

Sereda is taken aback by his sudden outburst and nods.  “I know.  I’m sorry.”

Zevran inhales sharply, closing his eyes and bowing his head.  He rocks back and forth for a moment like he’s trying to compose himself.

 I want them to be carefree and happy,” Zevran says softly.  “I can withstand a little anger for that.”

“Okay.  If that’s what you want,” Sereda says with a nod.  

Zevran seems content enough with that answer, opening his eyes and running his fingers through her hair.  A hand skims down her neck to her shoulder, slipping under the fabric of her shirt.  

“Perhaps you could use one of my famed Antivan massages,” Zevran says, pressing a kiss to her cheek.  “You must be tense after months asleep.”

“You know,” Sereda says with a laugh, “if you want to check to see if I have any nasty new scars, you can still just ask.”

It’s their morbid tradition after they’ve been separated for such a long time under such dangerous circumstances.

“I enjoy the chance to run my hands over your body!” Zevran exclaims.  

“I’m too tired to play around tonight.  I’m sorry, Zevran,” Sereda says.  

Zevran’s gaze softens.  “You know that that’s fine.”

“Yeah, I do,” Sereda says.  

“Perhaps we should move to the bed,” Zevran says.

“Probably,” Sereda says.

Before Zevran can get up, Sereda scoops him up easily.  She carries him to the bed and lays him down gently before crawling into bed with him.  

Sereda sits up and undoes her shirt, letting it pool on the bed.  She shivers as his fingers trace over bumpy skin that she knows is ugly red in splotches from her flank to her far shoulder.  He’s delicate and careful as only he can be.  

“That’s all,” Sereda says softly.  “A really dangerous plant.”

“Looks painful,” Zevran murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.  

“Nah, the worst part was that you weren’t there, honestly,” Sereda says, grinning at him over her shoulder.  

“I am here now,” Zevran says.  

“And now I feel much better,” Sereda says.  

Zevran smiles and kisses her shoulder again.  “Good.”

Sereda turns to face him, tracing the familiar lines of his tattoo.  “And what about you?  Any terrible injuries since I saw you last?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Zevran says.  

He holds up his left palm, where a newly healed slash runs across it.  

“And what happened?” Sereda asks, reaching out to take his hand carefully.  

“I was cleaning up a broken glass when I got sloppy,” Zevran says, “and perhaps slightly distracted by the twins.”

Sereda presses her lips against his palm.  “Truly a worthy cause.”

“I like to believe so,” Zevran says.

“I mean it,” Sereda says, looking at him seriously.  “It can’t’ve been easy, staying behind, taking care of the children alone, not knowing if I was dead.  And from what Jelah and Amias said, you did it so well.  No one will ever give you credit for what you did, Zevran, but I want you to know that I’m in awe of you.”

Zevran turns a slight shade of pink, looking away.  “I have never desired the attention you’ve received, my dear.”

Sereda smiles.  “I know.  But you deserve it nonetheless, for everything you’ve done.”

“There were many things that I should have done different.  Times when I was selfish or couldn’t give them everything they needed,” Zevran says sadly.  

“You did more than anyone else could have,” Sereda says quietly.  “You’re an excellent father, Zevran, and they’re lucky to have you.  I wouldn’t’ve had your children if I thought anything less.”

“What if I messed up even worse than I think I did?  What if I messed  _ them _ up?” Zevran asks.  

Sereda presses a hand against Zevran’s cheek, guiding him gently to look her in the eye.  “Did you love them?  Did you do what you thought was best for them at the time?  Did you care for them as best as you were able?”

Zevran nods slowly.  “I did.”

“I know the depths of your caring and the depths of your love, Zevran, so I know that what you did was right and that they’ll be good,” Sereda says with surety.  

“I wish that I could be as certain as you are,” Zevran says.  

“We turned out alright, and you were raised by a sadistic assassin guild and I was raised by a man willing to let me die to protect himself.  If we managed, I’m sure that they will get by with a year with just one loving, competent, caring parent.  Even if you’re not literally perfect,” Sereda says seriously.  “Just very close.”

Zevran smiles softly.  It’s an uncertain smile, like he’s not sure whether she’s right or not, but it’s a start.  They have time now.  “When you put it that way…”

Sereda pulls him so they’re laying down as another wave of exhaustion hits her.  They lay facing each other and Sereda pulls the covers up above both of their heads.  She finds the semi-dark comforting. 

It suddenly dawns on her that he’s really real.  Zevran is real and with her and they’re both safe and they’ll be together for decades more.  He’ll get old and grey and wrinkly and she’ll get to see it because she’s actually going to live because they found the cure.  Part of her hadn’t believed it was possible, and then she had watched him  _ die _ , but the thought is so beautiful.

Emotion bubbles up out of her with a soft cry and Zevran pulls her close.  Her face is buried in her chest and their arms are wrapped around each other as she cries.  She can feel his chest heaving, too, and she wishes she could provide him with some sort of comfort.  

“You can tell me what happened in the Fade, my dear,” Zevran says softly.  “Or on the road.  Whatever is upsetting you.”

“All of my worst fears about myself came true,” Sereda, voice gummy in her throat.  “I betrayed all of you for a crown.  I’m so sorry, Zevran.”

“That was the demon, Sereda.  Not you,” Zevran soothes, stroking her hair.  

“It felt so real.  When I woke up and you were alive, it was unbelievable,” Sereda says.  “I thought it was the demon giving me a taste of what I wanted so it could take you away again.  So I could betray you again.  But I still couldn’t resist falling into your arms.”

“I know that you would never do anything to hurt me,” Zevran says.  He pulls away and scoots down so they’re at eye level.  “I didn’t want to trust you, all those years ago, but it happened anyway, and I have never once regretted it.”

The trust and love radiating from him makes her cry harder.  While part of Sereda can’t help but wonder why it is that Zevran still trusts her, she know that he does.  She hates this feeling of helplessness, and it only feels more intense after the big emptiness of the despair demon’s lair.  

“Why not?” Sereda asks in a small voice.  Ancestors, she hasn’t felt this tiny and uncertain in so long.  “I could hurt you; I  _ did _ .  I handed you to the Crows and watched as they killed you slowly.  And our children.  I sent them to Bhelen.  Why would you trust me after that?”

“Because you are not the worst things that a demon made you do,” Zevran says, wiping her tears away gently.  “You are the loving and kind and incredibly brave woman that I have known and loved and trusted for so long.”

Sereda exhales softly, leaning into his touch.  “I wouldn’t be here without you.  By the end, the song was so loud and I wanted to give up, but I heard your voice and I heard our kids laughing, and I knew that I had to keep going.  If it wasn’t for you, I might’ve had someone end it because it got bad.  No matter what happens, I want you to know that.  Even from so far away, you kept me alive.”  

“All that is going to happen is that Alistair will get the cure, we will return home, and we will be a happy family once more.  It may be difficult, at times, but we will do it,” Zevran says firmly.  “They will write more songs about your grand exploits, and we will live the rest of our lives in such a boring way that no one will ever want to write of us again.”

Sereda nods and they lay there together for a while.  She traces the lines of his face carefully, her fingers getting damp from his tears.  It’s been over a year since she’s been able to just lay in bed with her husband.  It’s been longer that her impending death has been hanging over them, a shadow over most of their relationship.  Now they’re just two normal people.

Zevran is watching her, too, and she wonders if he forgot little bits of her like she forgot little bits of him.  His fingers trace the familiar lines of her facial tattoo, her jawline.  It tickles, and it feels right and good to be here with him like this.

“You know what?” Sereda says.  The tears staining her face make her smile stick a little. 

“What, my dear?” Zevran says softly.

“Now that I’m not really a Grey Warden, I probably don’t have the infamous Grey Warden stamina that you’ve enjoyed so much,” Sereda says.

A beautiful smile blooms on her husband’s face.  “Ah, well, I am certain that we will still have plenty of fun.” 

Sereda laughs, pushing him just a little.  “I was going to say that that you’ll finally be able to keep up with me- maybe!”

“Oh, my dear, you wound me!” Zevran says with a chuckle.

They look at each other for a moment, with matching purely genuine smiles, before bursting out into laughter.  She rolls on top of him, looking down into his bright and happy face, and for the first time, she knows with a surety that runs as deep as the Stone that they’re all going to be alright.


End file.
